


One Year of Love

by a_lanart - the younger (a_lanart)



Series: Subtext [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, M/M, POV First Person, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-28
Updated: 2010-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:19:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_lanart/pseuds/a_lanart%20-%20the%20younger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on what happened in the episode Investigations, both off and on screen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Year of Love

**Author's Note:**

> The title and the lyrics in the fic come from the song 'Just One Year of Love' by Queen from the album A Kind of Magic.  
> Saint Jude is the Patron Saint of Hopeless Causes.

~*~

One Year of Love.

*

He was watching me again today. I could feel the heat of his gaze on my back as I sat at the conn. I wondered what he was thinking; I wondered what he thought about me. Was he trying to puzzle out where his friend, and almost more than friend, had gone? I longed to shout out to them all,

"Look, It's still me. I'm still here. Nothing's changed." Well that's not quite true. The rest of them could all go hang, if only I could explain to him. I wouldn't have done it for anyone else except Kathryn Janeway, I wouldn't have risked wrecking my life, and possibly my one true chance of love, for anything, but she had to ask. And I... How could I refuse? I wouldn't *have* a life to wreck if it wasn't for her. She owns me, body and soul. I'm sure she'd be appalled if she realised I looked at her that way; well, maybe not. I think she must have a pretty good idea of how I feel about her, of how much I know I owe her, or else I don't think she would have asked. I can't blame her for anything; after all, I would probably do the same.

I made the mistake of turning round, and all I could see was the burning intensity in those eyes, the questions, and more importantly the acknowledgement of what we had never said. Oh God, how could I leave it like this? I would though; I knew I would, because that was what I had to do. There was no way I would drag him down with me, and that hurt more than anything, knowing that I had to keep my distance for his sake.

And all I have are memories of what has been the best friendship of my life, and of a few quietly spoken words in a darkened Sandrine's one night that hinted that it could be so much more. Oh how I wish that we had finished that conversation, but he was tongue tied and I was in shock, so when the red alert sounded we both ran out of there grateful for the interruption. Needless to say, it's never been mentioned again. I know he has wanted to talk to me, but I've been pushing him away. I can't afford for either of us to acknowledge our feelings now, not when I know the time is coming that I'm going to have to leave and possibly never come back, at least not alive. I think if we did, I wouldn't be able to go through with it and the last few weeks of pain and eternal regret would have been for nothing.

So we say nothing, but steal glances at each other when we think the other can't see. I may not be able to see the way he looks at me, but I sure as hell can feel it. I can feel those brown eyes smouldering, I can feel the heat on my back and I find myself wondering if his fingers would be as hot, or his mouth. I lie awake at night, touching myself, imagining it's his hands on my body, imagining what his kisses would feel like, how his skin would taste. Imagining, imagining, imagining. It's all I've got. And I wonder if he is doing the same, if he longs for my touch the way I long for his, if he cries himself to sleep after another lonely release, and if he curses Janeway and the Kazon as much as I do. I suppose I'll never know. I've missed my opportunity and I won't make things harder for us both than they already are by asking. I just wish I had the nerve. It's one thing knowing you are heading into a physical no-win situation, you can prepare yourself and walk in with eyes wide open, but as Sandrine would say 'matters of the heart' are so much more complicated, and I am a coward.

 

It was to Sandrine's I went on my last night. I kept the lights down low and deleted all the holo-characters except for her. I found myself unable to bear the silence, so I started one of the subroutines, a good old fashioned juke-box. I was also using the last of my replicator rations on whisky. Talisker to be exact, I needed something that kicked on the way down, that would warm the cold places inside. I don't know who I was trying to kid, it would take a very special man to do that and that just was not going to happen. I sighed, and took another mouthful of the whisky.

"You never told 'im, did you?"

"How was I supposed to do that, Sandrine? You know what I've been asked to do." Apart from the Captain and Tuvok she was the only one who did.

"All the more reason to explain 'ow you feel, mon cher."

"I couldn't," I heaved another sigh. I would have to stop drinking soon as I was feeling decidedly melancholy. "I wish I had, but I didn't and now it's too late."

"Too late for what?" Dear God, that voice was like liquid fire running down my spine. I hadn't even heard him come in. I listened to his footsteps as he crossed to the bar.

"Too late for what, Tom?" I wouldn't, I couldn't face him. One glance into those eyes and everything would be lost. He came to stand behind me, placed a hand on the back of my neck. It burned like a brand, in a way I suppose it was. The Captain may own me body and soul, but he has my heart whether he wants it or not. I stared at the surface of the bar in front of me, but couldn't block out the sight of one elegantly long-fingered golden hand reaching around me to grab my glass. I felt him raise the glass to his lips and swallow, before placing it back down in front of me.

"Please go," I whispered. "You're making this harder than it needs to be." If anything he moved closer. He leaned down until his mouth was almost next to my ear and I could feel the heat of his breath against my skin. It sent a thrill thorough my traitorous body, a shudder that I could not suppress.

"I don't think so," he breathed. "You might not admit it, but this needs to happen." I whirled on the stool to confront him and lost myself in the contemplation of golden skin, ebony hair and the most amazing smouldering brown eyes. I shouldn't have looked. He was so totally beautiful, wearing something loose and black. I tore my gaze away from that mesmerising sight.

"It can't." I turned back to staring at the bar. Sandrine had disappeared. Hot fingers were laid against my face, gently turning it back to face him. I nearly cried at the look in those eyes; all the love that he had never managed to articulate that night was there, along with complete understanding that I may yet reject him, for my sake if not his own. "This is a mistake," I whispered. "You shouldn't be here." He smiled. Gentle, thoughtful, a little sad.

"Why not? I can't think of any other place I'd rather be. There is so much that remains unsaid between us, but I think at the moment that is probably for the best. I don't want to be alone tonight, Tom, and I'm sure you don't want to be either. Let's forget everything else but each other, just for tonight at least." I met that gaze with my own, and saw nothing but shining sincerity and conviction. My last defences crumbled.

"If you're sure." The smile widened, and he held out his hand.

"I'm more sure than I've been of anything for a long time. Dance with me, Tom." I realised that there was something slow, and rather sad playing. It fit my mood perfectly. I put my hand in his and let myself be hauled up to dance. We didn't move much, just held each other close, swaying gently to the music. I felt happier than I had in a long time, and let the words of the song flow over me. They seemed curiously appropriate.

~*~

Just one year of Love  
Is better than a lifetime alone.  
One sentimental moment in your arms  
Is like a shooting star right through my heart.  
It's always a rainy day without you,  
I'm a prisoner of love inside you-  
I'm falling apart all around you-yeah.

 

My heart cries out to your heart,  
I'm lonely but you can save me.  
My hand reaches out for your hand,  
I'm cold but you light the fire in me.  
My lips search for your lips,   
I'm hungry for your touch,  
There's so much left unspoken  
And all I can do is surrender  
To the moment, just surrender.

 

And no-one ever told me that love would hurt so much,  
Oooh yes it hurts,  
And pain is so close to pleasure,   
And all I can to is surrender to your love,  
Just surrender to your love.

 

Just one year of love,  
Is better than a lifetime alone,  
One sentimental moment in your arms   
Is like a shooting star right through my heart.  
It's always a rainy day without you,  
I'm a prisoner of love inside you,   
I'm falling apart all around you,  
And all I can do is surrender.

~*~

Once the music finished we just stood close for a while longer. I revelled in the touch of his body against my own, in the solid heat of him. In that moment I knew I had to tell him, or at least try and show him how I felt.

"Harry, I..." He placed his fingers against my lips.

"Shh. It doesn't matter, Tom. I think we both know how we feel, but I'd rather not say it just yet. It gives me something to hold onto." I gave him a wry smile, and kissed those fingers where they lay on my mouth.

"If that's what you want." He chuckled.

"It's part of what I want." He moved his fingers to caress my face, and rubbed his thumb across my mouth as if he was trying to learn it's contours. I darted my tongue out to taste it, and kissed its tip.

"And what else do you want?" I had to ask, although I had a bloody good idea what he wanted, I just had to make sure it was the same as I did.

"Everything," he said, and lowered his mouth onto mine. His kiss burned into my soul. The touch of those full lips against mine, kissing me with an abandon I had only imagined was enough to make me throw all caution to the wind. I returned that searing kiss with a passion and fervour that I have not felt for a long, long time. I was lost in the wet heat of his mouth, in the duel of tongues, in the press of his body against mine and the fact that this was *Harry*. A dream come true, a wish fulfilled; and the reality was oh so much better than the fantasy.I pushed him against the bar, grinding myself against him. I was almost painfully hard and knew he would feel my arousal as I could feel his against my hip. Without releasing his lips once, I managed to start fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, trying to get to that golden skin, the thought of which had kept me awake countless times in the last year.

 

At last I was successful, and I ran my hands over the broad expanse of his chest, pausing to tease his nipples slightly. He shuddered delightfully, and moaned into my mouth. That moan went straight to my groin, and I could feel my cock jump in response. Oh God, this was all I had ever wished for. Harry pulled his mouth away; I must have made a small sound of protest as he laughed breathlessly.

"Engage privacy lock," was all he said. I'd forgotten. A vague, half formed thought about either getting to my or his quarters flitted through my brain. It was thrown out the window as soon as I felt his lips against my neck, kissing, sucking, biting. My legs nearly gave way. Again that breathless laugh. He grabbed my shoulders and reversed our positions so I was pressed against the bar, rapidly making short work of my shirt. He flung it impatiently across Sandrine's and began to explore my body. I should have guessed he'd be as thorough as a lover as he was doing his job. I don't think he left a centimetre of my skin unexplored. He nipped and licked and sucked his way down from my neck to my navel, paying special attention to my nipples and the hollow above my collarbone. He seemed to know just what would produce the strongest reaction in me. By the time he reached the waistband of my jeans I was a quivering, incoherent wreck, drowning in wave after wave of sensation. I was too far gone to even think about returning his caresses. It barely registered when he undid my jeans, and unceremoniously yanked them down with my underwear. I felt myself being lifted until I was sitting on the bar, barely able to support myself, and the rest of my clothes were hastily removed. I think I must have near screamed when he touched my cock for the first time as he stopped what he was doing.

"Are you okay?" I gave a very strangled sounding laugh.

"As long as you don't stop, I'll be fine." That was all the encouragement he needed.

He returned to his exploration with fingers, lips, teeth and tongue with an almost evil looking grin. His fingers were stroking my balls as he tenderly savaged my inner thighs with his mouth; he bit hard enough to leave marks in a couple of places, but at this point I was beyond caring. I just wanted him to carry on. His fingers moved as his mouth travelled higher, gently stroking the full length of me. God, I didn't think I'd been this hard since I was a teenager. I was beginning to zone out on him, the different sensations he was producing starting to overload my brain. I whimpered when he raised his head from where he had been nuzzling and licking my balls. He just stared at me, his eyes black with desire and mirroring what I was feeling. With a small, teasing smile at one corner of his mouth he wrapped his hand more firmly round my erection and gave it a couple of gentle tugs. I moaned.

"Damn you, Harry. You're killing me!" He just continued to smile.

"Lean back on your hands," he murmured. I obliged, raising an eyebrow in query. I was rewarded by such a hot look from those eyes that I had to close mine, or risk coming on the spot. "Yeah, like that," was the softly spoken answer. I swear I had no idea of what he had in mind. He returned his mouth to my balls, which made me gasp though I didn't move, but instead of moving *up* he moved down, teasing at my perineum with his tongue and lips while still fondling my cock with his clever fingers. I dimly heard someone breathlessly crying out,

"Oh God, oh God. Don't stop!" only half aware it was me. I'd never expected Harry to make me feel like this. Don't get me wrong, unlike the majority of the crew, I *knew* he wasn't the complete innocent he appeared to be, I'd just never expected to be on the receiving end. And now I was. It was incredible, no, more than incredible, it was amazing. Harry chose that moment to do something dangerously wonderful with his tongue. This time I did scream. I was drowning. All I could feel were his hands on my cock and his tongue in my ass. Never, never in a million years had I expected to feel this, but Dear Lord, it was good.

 

I don't know how he managed it, but he stopped just short of bringing me over the edge. I didn't know whether to thank him or curse him. He pulled me into a more upright position and hugged me tight, before releasing me again. I've never really seen Harry shine before, but he was then. His eyes were sparkling and his face was almost incandescent. I reached out to trace those full, sensuous lips.

"Any more tricks up your sleeve Mr. Kim?" If anything the smile got even wider.

"Just one." He reached for my forgotten glass of whisky and took a reasonably large mouthful. He didn't swallow. I had a sudden inkling of what he was going to do.

"Oh God," I moaned. I didn't seem to be capable of saying much else. Then his mouth was on me, surrounding me with its own warmth and the warmth of the whisky. He ran his tongue around the head of my cock; I could feel the liquid swishing around in a strangely erotic counter-point. I swear he was *teasing* me with that incredible mouth of his. Next thing everything tightened around me as he swallowed, and then all that surrounded me was Harry. I was gasping by this point, unable to string two words together, never mind a coherent sentence but I'm sure Harry realised what he was doing to me by that very evidence. He started to suck me hard, I think he'd got tired of waiting, and my vision fogged completely in a haze of lust and desire. I had to clamp my hands on his shoulders, or risk falling from my precarious position on the bar and although I really wanted to feel his hair beneath my fingers, I knew that if I did bury my hands in that soft, heavy mass I would be likely to tear great chunks of it out when I came. Somehow I didn't think Harry would appreciate that, though it would be something to remember me by. I barely felt the lingering caress of his fingers moving against the skin of my thighs once more, I was too wrapped up in what his mouth was doing to me, but he sure as hell got my attention when I felt one gentle finger press against, and then carefully enter me. That was all it took, with the feeling of his finger in my ass and his mouth round my cock, my orgasm finally started to build up past the point where I could no longer hold it back. Then he moved his finger, scraping it gently over my prostate. I screamed my throat raw, I could hear it echoing round Sandrine's, as I pumped into his mouth feeling him swallow torrent after torrent of my release.

 

I came back to myself still sitting on the bar, but with his arms wrapped tight around me and his head against my chest. He was breathing almost as heavily as me. I leaned down to capture his lips with my own, noticing the traces of my semen at the corner of his mouth. The kiss was long, and hot, and served to remind me that one of us still had unfulfilled desires, especially with the taste of myself on his tongue.

"Harry, that was wonderful. You're amazing."

"I aim to please." That was said with the cheekiest of grins. I think he's been mixing with me too much. I gave him a totally unselfconscious smile.

"Oh you did that all right." I slithered off the bar to stand chest to chest with him. "Now let me." He caught my hands.

"Stop."

"Stop? Why?" He just gazed deeply into my eyes; I felt the breath catch in my throat at the force of emotion I saw in them.

"Tom, I..." He stared at me for a moment longer, with nothing hidden from me. I knew what he was going to ask, and I was more than ready for it. "Tom, I really want to fuck you, but..."

"Shh. What makes you think I wouldn't want you to? This is for us Harry. Nothing that's gone before matters now, just you and me." I could feel the relief coursing through him. "But let's take it back to my quarters, hey? I want this to be on a bed, not the bloody pool table. I want drive you completely insane with desire, and know that it's *me* who's done that to you, and I want to see your face when you come." I reached out to caress his face again. "You're beautiful, Harry." I bent to kiss him again, pulling him hard against me. I couldn't help but feel the hardness of his erection where he was pressed against me. I plundered his mouth with a thoroughness that startled me, twining my tongue with his, nipping at his lips. He pulled away first, breathless and gasping.

"Carry on like that Tom, and I'll come in my pants right here. If we're going, let's go." I grinned at him, pleased that he was reacting that way. I began to pick up my clothes, pulling them on as fast as I could. I found Harry's shirt and passed it to him, he smiled his thanks and drew it on, but didn't bother fastening it. I looked at him. "What?"

"Please fasten it, Harry, or I don't think we'll ever get to my quarters."

"But you're only going to take it off again."

"I know. Just fasten it, will you." I could already feel the first stirrings of reawakened arousal. He smiled at me, a bright, happy grin and obliged. I began to cast my eyes around the bar for my shirt. To my utmost shock Sandrine shimmered into existence in one corner of the room and bent to pick something off the floor. My missing shirt. I think we both must have been staring open mouthed at her. She smiled.

"You are looking for this, ne'est-ce pas?" I nodded dumbly. "Don't worry, mes chers, I did not stay to watch." She wandered over to press the shirt into my almost nerveless hands. "Bien. Now you must go. There is much to say and do this night, hmm?" She turned away and shimmered out of existence again. Harry was staring at me incredulously.

"Did *you* program her to do that?"

"I'm not sure. I can't remember. I do remember suggesting to her that it would be nice if she could turn herself off if people appeared to have forgotten about her while Sandrine's was running. I think B'Elanna was there that night, so it's probably her modification."

"Remind me to thank B'Elanna sometime."

"Likewise." I turned towards the door, held out my hand. "Coming?" He just gave me another one of those smouldering looks.

"Soon, I hope." He put his hand in mine and we left the holodeck together, shutting down the program on the way out.

 

We barely spoke on the way to my quarters, barely even *looked* at each other, though I must admit I did entertain ideas of halting the turbo-lift to see what would happen. Scratch that. I *knew* what would happen, and funnily enough, I didn't want it to be in a turbo-lift. This night could well be our only opportunity to express what we had both so long denied and I wanted it to be right, in case it was all Harry had to remember me by, once I had gone. And as for me? Well, everyone likes a few good memories to take with them to the grave and I had certainly never imagined anything as sweet as this. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, I was just determined that we would enjoy each other and savour the experience of learning each other's bodies. Hand in hand we slowly made our way to deck four, and my quarters.

Harry surprised me again. The door had barely closed behind us before he pounced on me, kissing me as if his life depended on it. I tried to drag him into the bedroom, rather unsuccessfully I must admit, and in the end just surrendered to his passion. He ripped my clothes off even faster than he had in the holodeck, sending his own after them this time, barely pausing in his exploration of my mouth. At last we stood facing each other, naked, chests heaving and just *looked*. I reached for him.

"Wait," he said, and turned on his heel to approach the replicator. After a few softly spoken commands he turned back to face me with a tube in his hand. He gave me another hot and hungry smile. "Lube. We'll need it." I could only nod in agreement. The thought of why we would need it was almost making me dizzy with the lack of blood to my brain. I guided him into the bedroom, and pushed him down onto the bed.

I gazed down at him, running my hands over the smooth planes of his face, the sweet line of his throat, the breadth of his shoulders. He was warm, vibrant, alive under my fingertips.

"Do you realise how long I've wanted this to happen? How long I've dreamed of having you here, naked before me?" I barely recognised my voice; it was husky with desire and long suppressed emotion. Harry tipped his head back to look at me with hooded eyes and the ghost of a smile.

"As long as I have?" I sat down next to him on the bed, taking one of those beautiful hands in my own, tracing the lines on the palm, the length of the fingers. I slowly raised my eyes back to his.

"I never thanked you for coming back to Sandrine's for me tonight."

"When I saw you sitting there, I couldn't do anything else. You looked so quiet. So sad. So *alone*. I hate to tell you this, Thomas Eugene Paris..." He said this still with that faint smile hovering on his lips. "...but while I'm around, you'll never be alone, not truly." I couldn't answer that, not with the look he was giving me, or the lustful thoughts that were going through my head.

"Harry." I raised his hand to my lips to drop a gentle kiss into his palm. At least that's what I intended it to be, and that's how it started out, but in no time at all I was tracing those self same lines on the palm of his hand with my tongue and nibbling at the pulse on his wrist, revelling in the taste of him. One by one I sucked his fingers into my mouth, twirling my tongue around them, gently nipping the very tips. He gasped. I don't think Harry had given any thought to how wildly erotic something as simple as kissing someone's hand could be. His reaction merely fanned the flames of my desire higher and higher until I decided I had to do something about it. Now.

I released his fingers, receiving a whimper of protest in return, and pushed him down onto the bed.

"Move up," I said. He obliged until his legs were no longer dangling over the edge. I stared at him, drinking in every centimetre of that exposed, golden flesh as it gently gleamed in the light. He was beautiful; from the top of his wonderfully thick hair to the tips of his well shaped toes. I had to laugh at myself, I'd never before thought of feet as anything more than something to walk on, but Harry's made me think of foot rubs, and tickling and toe sucking. I had it bad. And for tonight, maybe only ever tonight (I pushed away the intruding thoughts of my probable death) he was mine, and I was his. Body, heart and soul. Complete. Together. The way it was meant to be. Why had I left it so long? I did actually know the answer, and it was all to do with friendship, but that was something I no longer had to worry about. I could see he was starting to get uncomfortable under my scrutiny, so I had to give him some sort of explanation.

"Harry, you're gorgeous." He smiled up at me, a truly devastating grin that melted my insides.

"You don't look so bad yourself from down here." He reached out for me, pulled me toward him. "There. Now I can see you so much better." We were almost nose to nose. Without any further ado he latched his mouth onto mine and pulled me down on top of him. Did I protest? No fucking way. I was in heaven, and it was hot, and wet, and Harry's. We kissed for what seemed like an eternity, tongues tangling, teeth nipping, until we both had to pause for breath. I raised my head to look down at Harry, at his flushed face and kiss-bruised lips. If he'd been gorgeous before, now he was dazzling, almost radiant, and it was *my* fault.

 

I licked at the small mole on his upper lip, something I'd wanted to do for ages, and then decided to explore the rest of his face with my lips, remembering every contour, every spot that provoked a shiver or a moan. I discovered he had incredibly sensitive ears and I licked and nibbled at them with delight until he was almost as much of a quivering wreck as I had been earlier. Then and only then, did I start to travel south. I didn't get much reaction when I kissed his neck gently, or his collar bones, or his shoulders which actually surprised me as from his reaction so far I had expected Harry to be one of those people with erogenous zones almost everywhere. I changed my tack slightly, moving back to the base of his neck, and bit down, hard, but not hard enough to break his skin. I'm not a Klingon for God's sake, and although I'm sure the taste of blood is very arousing for some people, I'm not one of them. Plus the fact I was aiming for pleasure, not pain. I was rewarded with a gut-wrenching moan. A good moan, one full of surprise and desire. I laved the bite with my tongue and produced a definite shiver. Oho. Bite him first and *then* he enjoys being licked. I filed that piece of information away for later use and continued my journey down his body, nipping just a little bit harder than I had originally, producing more moans, more shivers. I felt his hands slide off my back, it seems he could not control them any more. Good.

 

I finally reached his nipples. They were perfect, just like the rest of him, and already erect, just like certain other parts of his anatomy. And mine. I gently sucked one of the brown nubs into my mouth, twirled my tongue around it. Harry shrieked. I removed my mouth in concern, some men *hate* having their nipples sucked. Not me, I must admit, but it looked like Harry might do. He shot *that* idea down with two breathless, gasping words.

"Don't stop. *Please* don't stop. I'll kill you, Tom. I swear I will. I... Ooohhh." I fastened my mouth back round one nipple, and gently began to tug on the other, carefully rolling it between my fingers. He cried out again, not quite a scream, but not far off it. I felt so powerful, so *alive*. The sounds Harry was making were almost intoxicating, I was seriously turned on. It didn't matter that I'd already come once. Bad mistake that. The thought of how it had felt to have Harry's lips on me, to come in the hot cavern of his mouth stopped any rational thought in its tracks. I wanted to be fucked, *really* wanted it. The thought was a little surprising in its intensity. Well maybe not; this was *Harry*. I raised my head again.

"Tom!" Harry wailed in protest. I grinned at him.

"Don't complain too much. I've got something to ask you." He looked faintly bemused. *Shit*. Puzzled and aroused in one expression is a bit startling.

"What?" I ran my fingers lightly over his nipples again, just to see his reaction.

"I want you to fuck me." The eyes widened. He hadn't expected that, or at least he hadn't expected it *then*.

"You want..."

"I want you to fuck me. Now. Please?" He groaned. I felt his cock leap in response from where it was trapped against my body. Then he gave me that killer smile again, his eyes glinting with an unholy light.

"You asked, remember."

"Fine. Just..."

"I remember, you want to see me when I come. No problem." Effortlessly he flipped us over, so our positions were reversed. He's a lot stronger than he looks. I think it's all in the shoulders. Most women I know seem to look at them as just good shoulders to cry on, I was looking at them as good shoulders to hang onto while I was having my brains fucked out. I shivered in anticipation.

 

His touch was electric. It didn't seem to matter where he touched me, or whether it was with his mouth or his fingers; every gentle brush of his lips, every soft touch of his hands almost sent me into a frenzy. I could hear myself whimpering and pleading with him to hurry up and fuck me already, but it seemed that Harry was determined to tease. His fingers slowly drifted down my body while his mouth devoured mine. The kisses had changed from the merest brush of his lips against mine, to hot, hungry and demanding, the thrust and tangle of our tongues deliciously accompanied by the dance of his fingers on my heated skin. He moved his kisses downward, but they didn't change in intensity. If anything they got hotter, as he sucked at my skin greedily, like a starving man, leaving a trail of bruises in his wake. I didn't care, it felt so good. I was alive, I was free. Harry was giving me wings with every sensual touch and I was euphoric with it.

 

With a thrill, I realised where his fingers were heading. At last. It felt like he'd been teasing me forever. As his touch wandered past my cock, and over my balls, cupping them gently in his hands, I almost felt like singing. Singing! Me! Instead, I groaned, and whimpered some more.

"Please, please, please." With an answering groan, that I felt rather than heard as his head was still pressed up against my chest, he finally dipped his fingers into the cleft of my ass. I near shot off the bed. I swear, it never had felt like this before; but then it had never been Harry before, either. I guess what they say about love making sex so much better is true. Now he was gently rubbing a finger across my asshole. I was begging again. The fingers disappeared, only to return cool and slick with lube, demanding, and then gaining entry to my body. First one, then another. He was moaning almost constantly now, but I still couldn't quite make out the words. Most of them sounded like 'Tom'. I was gasping as those long, agile fingers stroked into me, so good, so unbelievably wonderful. Then he went after my prostate again, and I screamed. Again. For a few seconds his fingers stopped moving and he raised his head to look down at me.

"You really like that, don't you?" He looked thoroughly delectable, all flushed and burning with desire. For me.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" I gasped out. He demonstrated, again. This time my scream was more of a strangled croak as he lowered his mouth onto mine with fierce possession, swallowing my cries. Eventually he raised his head again; I whimpered a protest, he wiggled his fingers inside of me, I shrieked.

"That's three now. Think you're ready for me yet?"

"Ready? Shit, yes.. Please... Please fuck me. I want to feel you come inside me." The next few seconds passed in a blur and a haze of sensation. I don't remember him pulling his fingers out of me. Or moving between my legs. Or raising my hips up on a pillow. But he did all of these things, and the next thing I was fully aware of was the blunt head of his cock pressing against my asshole. "Inside me Harry, please. *Now*." And slowly, oh so agonisingly slowly he pushed into me. He filled me. So totally and completely filled me. It was unbelievable. I gazed up at him and caught such a rapt, almost exultant expression on his face that it made the breath catch in my throat. He let out a low moan, one that was full of passion.

"I'm inside you Tom. At last I'm inside you. And you feel wonderful." He pulled back and then buried himself deeper inside me with one smooth thrust. At that we both moaned, our cries joining as our bodies were. Gradually we found a rhythm, but Harry's thrusts were still too slow, too *careful* for the way I was feeling. I tried to pull him in deeper, but it's a bit difficult to manage when your legs are somewhere by your ears.

"Harry. *Please*..." The rest of what I was going to say was lost in another moan as he thrust into me again.

"Please what?" He gasped. He tossed his hair back, it was starting to get matted with the sweat forming on his forehead. His whole body was flushed now, and I could feel the heat radiating from him. If he did what I asked him, neither of us would last much longer.

"Fuck me harder." His whole body stilled as he pierced me to the very core with that burning gaze.

"Sure?"

"*Please*." Oh God, he had that smile on his face again.

"Remember, you..."

"...asked... I know. *Harry*." He didn't reply with words, just slammed into me hard, just this side of painful. *Shit*. He felt good, so hot, so."Aaahh! ...Yes... Harry... More..." Again. Again. Again. I was totally beyond words by then, and Harry nearly so. Our eyes were locked as we surrendered to each other, possessed each other, shared each other. One being with eyes of brown and blue. I was losing it, I could feel the wave threatening to rise up and engulf me, but I wanted it to take him too. "Harry... I'm..." No breath for more than that.

"Yes, Tom... Yes... Feel me...inside..." Harry was gasping, and beautiful, so heart-rendingly beautiful... and coming. Hard. Inside me.

"...Tom!..." I could; I could feel him. Spilling his essence deep within me, filling me, possessing me. I followed him over the edge with a last breathless scream as he collapsed on me, sandwiching my spurting cock between us.

 

We fell straight from orgasm into insensibility. The next things I consciously remember are feeling cold, lying in a decidedly wet patch and being slowly squashed to death by a sleeping Harry. His head was nestled against my shoulder, and he was breathing deeply, almost snoring. I hated to wake him, but I really wanted to do a bit of deep breathing myself, and couldn't with him lying on me. Turning my head slightly, I found I was ideally positioned to whisper in his ear.

"Harry?" I breathed. He nuzzled in a bit closer, but didn't wake. Obviously I was going to have to resort to shock tactics if I wanted to breathe properly again. Gently, tenderly, I started to suck, then nibble his ear lobe before exploring the rest of his ear with my tongue. I managed to get a very drowsy,

"Mmm 's good," out of him, but he *still* didn't move. I began to be a little more persistent in my attentions. God, I was enjoying this, even if I couldn't breathe. He woke suddenly, and completely, with a shudder and a gasped "Tom!" I gave him a very gentle hug, after all I didn't want to squash myself any further.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. Now would you *please* get off me?" He obliged, and rolled to one side of me, taking what felt like half of my chest hair with him. "Ow!" We had stuck together without me realising it.

"Sorry." I'm sure he did mean it, but it was said with what sounded suspiciously like a giggle. I kissed him soundly to shut him up, pulled the covers over us, and held him close. I felt like we were still joined, not by body any more, but closer than that. By spirit, by soul, by love. I loved him so much, and I couldn't even pinpoint when I first realised what I felt for him. It seemed like he had *always* been there, just waiting for me to open my eyes to the truth. I smoothed the hair back from his forehead; he looked thoroughly dishevelled, and utterly divine. I *had* to tell him.

"I meant to tell you this that night in Sandrine's, but I couldn't. I didn't know how."

"Tom, don't."

"But..."

"Please?" Oh well. If that was the way he wanted it, that was the way we would play it. I could see the love in his eyes, and I sure as hell knew what I was feeling, so I didn't really understand what the problem was. We cuddled for a bit longer, sharing the warmth, and the closeness.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we should hit the shower. We're both kind of sticky."

"You got that right. Your fault, remember." Oh I remembered all right. I don't think I could ever forget it. Watching him come inside me, *feeling* him come inside me, was like having some sort of transcendent experience. I'm not surprised I had come all over us. He leaned over to plant a firm and loving kiss on my mouth, before wriggling out of my arms. In no time at all he was standing by my bed, glorious in his nakedness, and softly smiling at me through the curtain of his hair. He held out a hand. "Come on, then. Let's get wet." I couldn't help it, I laughed. It was a laugh of delight and sheer joy. I grabbed his hand, hauling myself up out of the bed, gathered him close and then danced him round the room, just for the sheer hell of it. And all the while I was telling him,

"I love you, I love you." But silently, in the confines of my own mind. I think he knew, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was doing the very same.

 

Eventually we near fell through the door of the bathroom, breathless and laughing. I almost felt giddy with happiness; I could almost forget that this was it, that I'd never have this opportunity again. Almost. Some things you can never forget, no matter how much you wish you could. I pushed the thought aside; it had no place here, not tonight. Tonight was mine and Harry's, to laugh, to love, to simply *be*. And to 'get wet'. I chuckled, even as I started the water running. Oh yes, it had to be water. I hadn't said anything, but I'd always had this fantasy about showering with Harry. Ulterior motive? What's that? We *needed* to get clean. Desperately. Dried semen is *not* the prettiest or the most comfortable accessory, especially when it's matted in your chest hair. I dived into the shower, pulling him in after me.

 

For me, a water shower is always a sensual experience, even when I'm on my own. There's something about it that screams 'freedom' and 'life' to me. Sonics always remind me of New Zealand. You'll never catch me spending any longer than necessary in a sonic shower, two minutes max. But a water shower? If I've got the water rations half an hour sounds about right. Longer if I can. There's just something curiously wonderful about the touch of water on naked skin. I like skinny dipping too. Absent mindedly I had begun to wash myself down, only to have the gel firmly, but gently removed from my grasp.

"Let me." *Let* him! *Shit* There was no way I was going to stop him, no fucking way. Not when he had just stepped right into the middle of my fantasy with no prompting whatsoever. With unholy delight, I surrendered completely to his touch, melting under the skilful ministrations of those hands. He didn't just wash me, he massaged me, easing the tension of the last two months out of my neck and shoulders, thoughtfully rubbing my back. Carefully he pulled me against him, so my back was in contact with his chest, and slowly began to wash mine, running his fingers through the matted curls there, gently grazing a nipple once or twice. His chin was on my shoulder, his lips next to my ear. He kissed me.

"You know, I've always wanted to do this," he whispered, swirling his fingers contentedly on my skin.

"What? Wash me?"

"Mm-hmm." He continued to move his hands lower, he was caressing now as much as washing. Not that I was complaining. Anything but. Hands splayed across my belly, he drew me back even closer against his body, close enough for me to feel the rapid hardening of his cock against my ass. I was already erect, had been almost since he began to wash me. Hands continued to drift downwards from my belly, still washing, but caressing too. I leaned back against him with a moan as he cupped my balls in one hand while running the other all over my hard length. "You feel so good in my hands, Tom." I spluttered. I think I also must have swallowed some water. Concern. "Tom, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I think you've got magic in your fingers. You make me feel, oh I don't know... Wonderful. Amazing." *Whole*. I really do love you, Harry.

"Then you won't mind if I ask you to fuck me?"

"Mind?!" Oh God, oh God, what had I done to deserve this? I had Harry, in my shower, asking me to fuck him. Unbelievable. Tell us your innermost fantasies and we will fulfil them. *Shit*. Harry, had you turned psychic or something with out letting on? It certainly seemed like it. "No, I won't mind." It was said with a slight chuckle, of disbelief more than anything else.

"Good. Tom, will you fuck me. Here. In the shower?" I'm surprised my legs were still holding me up. His voice was low, and husky with desire. He pressed his lips against the wet skin of my neck. They burned. He began to gently nip a path from my neck to my collar bone. "Please?" It was said with the merest puff of breath, but that breath blazed a trail straight to my groin. I whirled in his arms and pressed my hot and rigid body up against his, pressing him back against the wall. Our cocks jumped at the contact. We both moaned.

"I'd love to," I whispered.

 

First though, I washed him as carefully and as tenderly as he had washed me. By the time I reached his cock he was writhing under my touch. I let my fingers wander. Up over the head, down the shaft, gently teasing his foreskin. It was beautiful, and suited him perfectly. My fingers drifted lower, caressing the heavy sac between his legs, while one hand snaked around him to caress his ass, squeezing gently, before I dipped my fingers into the cleft between his cheeks. Harry wailed; a breathless, frantic sound.

"Tom!... Please Tom... Please fuck me." I sure as hell didn't need any urging. The desire to bury myself in that hot, responsive body was almost overwhelming. With the water still beating down on my back, I turned him round to face the wall. He automatically bent, clasping onto the rail. I stared at him, at that long smooth back, at that tight ass, all that luscious golden skin. Waiting for me, wanting me. With a last effort at conscious thought before the haze of lust completely engulfed me, I searched for something more appropriate than shower gel to use as lubricant. I knew I had some in here somewhere, eventually I found it. Oil. I usually used it for dry skin; this would be so much more fun.

 

Gently, I spread the cheeks of his ass, merely brushing one oily finger over the puckered opening. His reaction was all I could have wished for. He wailed, and shuddered, and screamed for more. I let that wandering finger gain entrance. Slowly carefully, pushing gently so as not to hurt him. Harry had other ideas, and pushed himself back onto my finger. His groan was met with one of my own.

"More. *Hurry*."

"I don't want to hurt you," I protested. He clenched his muscles down on my finger. Hard. I was just glad I only had one in there or it would have really hurt.

"You won't." He ground out.

"But..."

"*Please*?" Oh what the hell, if he wanted it hot, hard and fast, then I could certainly give it to him that way. Another oily finger was inserted, then a third. To get my own back I felt for his prostate, flicked over it once, twice. He screamed, probably as loudly as I had, but it seemed louder, trapped as it was by the confines of the shower. Payback can feel so good. "Tom... Now you... Please..." I pulled my fingers out of his ass, coating my erection with liberal amounts of oil. I really *didn't* want to hurt him, no matter how hard and fast he thought he wanted it. To the best of my knowledge he hadn't been fucked by a guy since arriving on Voyager. Mind you, neither had I. I pressed my cock up against the entrance to his body, slowly pushing into him, carefully driving myself home. Home. It may be trite, but that's what it felt like.

 

Harry, like I had earlier, thought I was going too slowly, and drove himself back against me, impaling himself on me, taking me deep inside him. I think we both screamed. And suddenly I couldn't hold myself back any more. He was so hot and so tight, and he felt better clenched around me than anyone has ever felt before, male or female. I was flying, I was in heaven, I was in *Harry*. I thrust into him again and again, him matching me thrust for thrust, cry for cry. We were both incoherent with our need for each other, with our need for release. There was nothing else, just the heat, and the feel of tight flesh. I reached around him to pump his cock in time with my thrusts, I wanted us to come together again. I wanted it to be perfect. Nearly there, I was nearly there. Harry fell over the edge before I did, his come spurting hot and sticky over my hand, over his chest, screaming my name at the top of his voice. I've never heard my name sound like that before. His muscles clenched around me unbelievably; I lost it, and emptied myself deep within him.

 

I near collapsed on his back, my breath sobbing in my lungs, my cock rapidly softening inside him. I wrapped both arms around him and drew him slowly upright into the haven of my embrace, feathering gentle kisses across his face. We stood, gasping, under the rapidly cooling stream of water, letting it run down our bodies, washing the sweat and the semen away. At last we had to get out, or risk freezing.

 

With the utmost tenderness, we dried each other off. The mood being shattered by a loud grumble from the vicinity of my stomach. I could feel the flush rising up my body, all the way to my face.

"Sorry." He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight.

"Hey, it doesn't matter. I'm hungry too." He wandered over to the replicator. "My treat?" I knew what I wanted without even thinking about it.

"Tomato soup."

"Hot, plain. Yeah, I know." He smiled at me with such sweetness my legs almost buckled with the force of it. While he busied himself with the replicator, I changed my sheets. There was no way either Harry or I were sleeping in a wet patch. Not tonight. Maybe some other time... I shook my head to clear it. That was just wishful thinking, I knew it wasn't going to happen. Harry appeared by my side, proffering the soup. We perched on the bed, slurping contentedly for a few minutes. Soup finished, I put the bowls on the floor and folded Harry into my arms. He sighed, and settled against me. I stroked his hair, kissed his eyelids and wished that he'd let me tell him how much I loved him. I didn't try again. His eyelids were drooping, I gently brushed my thumb across them.

"Any regrets?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Not about tonight." I think I knew what he was implying, didn't ask. His face was suddenly split by an enormous yawn. I pulled the covers down on the bed and picked him up. Not an easy task, but he was near enough asleep on his feet. I settled him into bed and snuggled up against him, watching as he slowly drifted into sleep. It didn't take long. I was just glad that he didn't need the mask any more, it spoiled the serene beauty of his face. I watched for a while longer, imprinting every line, every curve, every nuance of his face and body on my mind. Memories to warm me in the cold and lonely nights that waited for me. Softly, I trailed a finger down his face. He was asleep, he couldn't stop me now, so I said those words with everything that was in my heart.

"I love you, Harry." Emotionally drained, I lay myself down beside him, and followed him into sleep.

 

Waking up next to Harry was sheer bliss. Then reality came crashing down on me. Today I was leaving. Leaving a man I truly loved, leaving the only place where I had actually been content in years. And for what? Because the woman who owned me had asked, had *needed* me to do this. I glanced at the time just as Harry began to stir, propping myself up on one elbow so I could watch him better.

 

A naked, half-asleep Harry is something wonderful to behold; he's full of a kind of drowsy grace that you wouldn't suspect he possessed from knowing him in his day to day life. As I watched, he opened his eyes with a smile, and just stared at me, reaching up to brush his fingers across the marks he had left on my chest.

"I love you," he announced simply. I was totally stunned. After not once letting *me* say those very same words the night before, he just came right out with it.

"Harry. I thought... You said..."

"That was last night, a night we stole from reality. But now it's morning, you're leaving, and I couldn't let you go without telling you." I pulled him into my arms, showering kisses onto his upturned face, almost devouring him.

"I love you too, Harry. I wanted to tell you last night..."

"Only I wouldn't let you. I'm sorry. I felt that if we didn't say the words, I could pretend that today wasn't going to happen."

"But it has."

"Yeah." We held each other in silence for a while. Then, "Tom, do you really have to go?" Oh God, Harry. If only you knew how much it was breaking my heart to leave you. Who am I kidding, you knew all right. I was breaking yours by leaving you behind. And there was nothing I could do about it.

I couldn't meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry Harry, I've got to. Believe me, if I didn't have to go, I wouldn't. But..."

"It's okay, Tom. It's obvious there's more at stake here than just your happiness. If you've made up your mind, there's no way I can stop you. I just wish..." He clung to me almost desperately. I returned his embrace with a fierce hug of my own.

"That we hadn't wasted so much fucking time trying to convince ourselves we couldn't want this." He gave me such a beautiful but sad smile that I nearly broke down on the spot.

"Something like that." He shifted slightly to check the time over my shoulder. "Shit!" He gave me a wild look, one that spoke volumes about badly divided loyalties. "I've got to go, or I'm going to be late." He swung his legs out of the bed, I moved with him.

"Go on. Will I see you later?" He tried to put on a brave face.

"Try and stop me." He quickly pulled on his clothes from the night before without once taking his eyes off me. "I'll be there. Just..." He stepped forward and gave me a quick, hard kiss and then fled out of the door. That last kiss burned on my lips with an intensity that near took my breath away, and all I could do was press my hands to my face letting the hot tears of futility run through my fingers.

 

I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually I stumbled into the shower. Part of me didn't want to wash what was left of the smell and taste of Harry off my skin, but I did. I had to. Half heartedly I finished washing, got dried, got dressed not caring what the hell I was wearing, and began to pack. More than once I thought *Just what the fuck are you doing, Tommy-boy?* but it didn't stop me.

 

I was still packing when Neelix arrived. It seems he had heard I was leaving.

"Good news travels fast," I said. He wanted to know if it was true, and why, and all sorts of other things. I can't remember half of what I said to him, but I gave him all the covering spiel. I wondered if it sounded as false to him as it did to me. Obviously not. He surprised me by giving me a hug. I mean, *Neelix*?! I suppose you really do find friends in unexpected places. That train of thought led me into thinking of Harry, all breathless and sweaty and sticky and *mine*. I shoved the image aside quickly; I sure as hell didn't want to get an erection while I was hugging Neelix. He left as quickly as he'd arrived, one of my few true friends.

 

My packing finished, there was only one thing of any importance I needed to do before I left Voyager. Say goodbye to Harry. I grabbed a padd, downloaded that song that we had danced to in Sandrine's, the one that made me think of our situation, and spent the next ten minutes frantically searching for just one item. Eventually I found it; an old fashioned writing case. Good quality paper, real ink pens, that sort of thing. Just what you'd use to write love letters. Or farewell notes. I left my quarters, padd and case in hand, and made my way to Harry's.

 

In the end I couldn't think of anything to write. Any eloquence I may have possessed had completely deserted me. For ages I stared at the paper, pen in hand, and all I could see was Harry. The first time I saw him, on DS9; the moment he said 'I don't need anyone to choose my friends for me', laughing with me, playing pool, me watching his dark head bent over the ops console, him learning a new piece of music just because *I* asked. Then there were the memories of last night. Dancing. Kissing. Loving.

I began to write.

'And no-one ever told me that love would hurt so much.'

A line from the song, and so very apt. I was hurting. Badly. What else to say? I decided to keep it simple:

 

Remember me,

Tom  
x

 

Another message went onto the padd.

"I know we only had one night, and not a year, but it was still worth every second. I love you Harry, and I always will."

 

Leaving the sheet of paper and the padd on the desk. I glanced around the quarters that were as familiar to me as my own one last time. I wandered over to Harry's music corner and ran my fingers over his clarinet, thinking about how his skilful lips had played *me* better than any damn musical instrument. In a fit of sentimentality I picked up a sheet of his music, it was as much of Harry as I could take with me. Pocketing the music, I picked up the writing case and left.

A while later I entered the transporter room. They were there, three of them. Two dear friends, and the keeper of my heart. He looked so sad, my Harry, that I just wanted to grab his hand and run off with him. Needless to say, I didn't, we just shared a brief, emotion filled glance, no more barriers between us, not any more. I only wish I could have told him the real truth behind my behaviour of the last couple of months, the real reasons as to why I was leaving. Harry wasn't stupid, he knew there was something going on, just not what it was. It must have been so hard on him, watching me, and not knowing why.

I'm sorry Harry.

 

Kes was the first to say goodbye. She hugged me tight, I think I probably hugged her just as hard. Such a good friend, Kes, and never one to judge by appearances. And Neelix? I didn't feel either of us were up to another hug, so we shook hands. He may look weird, and his cooking may be a bit way out for my liking, but he's all heart.

 

And then I was next to Harry. I offered him my hand, I didn't know if I could manage not to break down if he hugged me. Harry of course was having none of it. He pulled me close, saying nothing; probably, like me, because he couldn't. Besides, we had said it all, both last night and this morning; with words, and without. I handed him my com badge, barely touching his fingers, and stepped up to the transporter pad. I felt his last lingering touch burn like fire; into my body, into my heart, into my soul. The last thing I saw before the transporter energised was Harry's eyes. So dark, so full of all the things we'd never had time to say to each other.

 

Goodbye my friend, my lover.

If Saint Jude is still looking out for me, we'll be together again.

 

The day passed me by in a blur. I hadn't realised just how much of Neelix's natural ebullience was a racial characteristic, the only other Talaxian I'd ever spoken to had been when B'Elanna and I were held by the Vidiians, and I didn't take much notice of him at the time. Imagine a ship full of Neelix's. Surprisingly I found it comforting in a way, almost familiar. At least I did during the day. The only night I spent there was another thing altogether.

 

At night I was free to dream, and worry, and remember. The night was an almost equal mixture of nightmares about the Kazon and heart rending dreams of Harry. I've forgotten the number of times I woke with tears on my face and his name on my lips. I longed for him. Burned for him. For his voice, for his touch, for his kisses. Especially for his kisses. After those dreams, thoughts of Harry intruded during the day. He was on my mind constantly, I couldn't concentrate on anything. Thank God flying the Talaxian ship wasn't exactly difficult, or I would have been in trouble.

 

I greeted the appearance of the Kazon with something approaching relief. At last I would be doing what I'd been sent out there for. They found me pretty quickly and dragged me off just as fast. So there I was on the Kazon ship, possessing nothing but the clothes I stood up in, the sheet of Harry's music still folded in my pocket, and a sneaky little device hidden in my sleeve. I couldn't believe they hadn't searched me. That Seska hadn't ordered it. Ah yes, Seska. She came to see me, to gloat rather, looking curiously triumphant and very, very pregnant. As soon as she left I began to work on the console I'd decided would be my best bet for finding out what I needed.

 

I found myself longing for Harry again, but for his expertise with computers this time, and not his body. Life's like that. Eventually I managed to hack my way in. Harry's brilliant, but I'm sneaky. Prison experience can be useful at times. It wasn't perfect, but was enough for my needs. I listened and watched carefully. Jonas. That little fucker. If I managed to get back in one piece I was really going to want to inflict some serious damage on him. Although in a way, I suppose I should have been grateful to him. Without his interference I wouldn't have had to leave and Harry and I would probably still be dancing round the issue of whether we wanted to be more than friends. All I had to do now was get out, and survive long enough to contact Voyager. All. Hah! I set the device to go off just before Seska and her tame dogs flounced in. She was not happy. Oh no, not at all. I remember something a great aunt said to me once... 'Never upset a redhead or you'll live to regret it'. Seems it was true for Cardassians too.

 

In the confusion that followed the explosion I managed to grab a gun and leave. I even managed to get to a shuttle after a bit of infighting with a Kazon or two. I began to feel a little more hopeful of actually getting back. That didn't last long. Even the best pilot in the delta quadrant couldn't avoid the fire of the larger ship. Not in one of their shuttles anyway. I barely saw the console in front of me, or the stars outside. I was remembering a pair of smouldering brown eyes, and the peace I found in Harry's embrace. They say home is where the heart is. I guess I've found that it's true.

 

Although I had a responsibility to get back within communications range long enough to tell the Captain what I had found, it wasn't that which made me fly like an angel being pursued by demons, that drew me like a moth to flame. It was Harry. Even so, as we drew closer to Voyager and I still hadn't managed to establish communications, I began to be concerned that I would be responsible for destroying them all. I couldn't live with that. I'd rather die myself, and give up all hope of ever seeing him again. The relief that flooded through my body when I at last heard the Captains voice was unbelievable. I managed to warn her about the ambush that Seska had planned for them and was about to tell them about Jonas when the shuttle took a direct hit, sending me flying until I smashed into the bulkhead.

 

The Captain's voice brought me back. Insistent, demanding. I scrambled off the deck, God I hurt, and managed to make my way back to the pilot's station, informing her about Jonas on the way. I could her the ice in her simple reply. Only the Captain could make something as short as 'Noted' sound like a death sentence. The readouts caught my eye. *Shit*. She told me that they'd have me in transporter range in a minute. A minute. Only a minute. Oh God. I wasn't going to make it. So near and yet so far.

Remember me, Harry...

"Shuttle hull is starting to breach. Might not make it, Captain." I was wrestling with the shuttle, trying so hard to keep it under some semblance of control, and not succeeding.

I love you, Harry. I tried to get back to you, I really did, but this bucket of bolts that they call a shuttle put paid to all that.

 

The memories rose up to overwhelm me and I welcomed them with wide open arms. The heat of his body radiating into mine as we swayed together, dancing; that first searing kiss; the look in his eyes as he exploded within me; the warm, heavy weight of him as he slept; the twisting of my heart when he said 'I love you' and the last touch of his hand on my arm as I stepped away from him in the transporter room.

 

It's kind of fitting that my last thoughts should be of you, Harry. You're my life, my love, my heart, my soul. The day to my night, Yin to my Yang. The better half of me. God, how I love you, I hope you know that. I'm sorry I'll never be able to tell you again. The console rushed up to meet my head as the shuttle took another hit, but I didn't feel it. I was wrapped in your arms. Safe. Loved. Happy.

I love you.

Forever.

Oh Harry.

 

~*~

 

"I have treated all of his injuries; he should wake up at any time now." The Doc? What was the Doc doing in *my* afterlife? I spent enough time in sickbay while I was alive to really not want to spend any there while I was dead. Mind you, last time I was dead I was in sickbay too. I even woke up in there. That made me think; maybe I'm not dead. If I was dead, Harry would be here. Or would he? Then the Captain spoke.

"Is he stable enough to have visitors?"

That clinched it, I was definitely alive. I began to fight my way to full consciousness.

"Visitors? Now?"

Oh I recognised that tone of voice. I could almost see the expression that went with it.

"Only one. I'm having terrible trouble keeping Ensign Kim out of here."

Harry! I struggled to open my eyes. God, my head hurt.

"It looks like he's coming round, Doctor."

Too fucking right I am. Harry. Where's Harry? I groaned, my head was killing me.

"This should help with the pain, Mr. Paris." I felt the hypospray cool against my neck. The pounding in my head subsided to a tolerable level. I carefully pried open my eyes. Only the Captain and the Doc were visible.

"Harry?" It was barely more than a whisper, but they heard. I felt a hand on my arm. The Captain's.

"He's just outside Tom, I'll go and get him." She didn't leave immediately, but patted my arm again. "Thank you, Tom. I know how difficult this must have been for you." You don't know the half of it, lady. I asked again.

"Harry?" My voice sounded a bit stronger this time. Good. The Captain chuckled.

"Don't worry, I'm going." She did, and I heard the door swish open, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps approaching the bio-bed. The touch of a familiar and longed for hand caressing my face, the brush of equally longed for lips on my forehead, and just the sight of him made my heart turn over. He looked tired, and drawn, and relieved.

"Love," I said. My voice still wasn't working very well. I think my mouth was dry. He smiled at me, a sad but relieved smile.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered, as if that explained everything. Perhaps it did.

"Not me," I croaked, "Too damn much to come back for. I love you." The smile widened, reached his eyes. I lost myself in them as he gazed down at me, softy running his fingers across my cheek.

"I remember." I licked my lips, trying to distribute what little moisture there was left in my mouth. He must have noticed, as the next thing he did was prop me up enough to drink from a cup he was holding. I sipped slowly, if I made myself sick by drinking too fast the Doc would never let me out, and I sure as hell was not going to stay. I wanted to walk out of there with Harry, go back to my room, and sleep. With him. As Harry replaced the cup, the Doc appeared from his office. Harry didn't remove his arm from round my shoulders, which surprised me, though perhaps it shouldn't have. He probably wanted to keep reminding himself I was alive. I relaxed into his embrace. The Doc gave us one of those *looks* and then resolutely ignored Harry's arm while he scanned me again.

"How are you feeling, now?"

"Not bad. The headache's gone. I feel a bit dry, but I know that'll sort itself out. Any chance of getting out of here, Doc?" He frowned at me, then at Harry. We both beamed at him. He frowned some more. Then he stepped back, putting his tricorder away.

"Very well. You can go as long as Ensign Kim stays with you for the next few hours. You need to rest. Any recurrence of the headache, any dizziness or double vision etc. must be reported to me straight away. You have a hard head, Mr. Paris, but you've still had a nasty concussion and it needs treating as such. Do I make myself understood?"

"Yes Doc." I was just glad he hadn't given us the 'No strenuous exercise' lecture; I don't think either of us would have been able to keep our faces straight. Actually he probably didn't need to, I wasn't feeling up to much, but I dearly wanted to be held close, and kissed. I swung my legs over the side of the bio-bed, letting them dangle for a bit while I waited for my head to decide it liked being upright. The Doctor disappeared into his office for a minute before returning with one of my uniforms. I thanked him, I hadn't relished the thought of wandering the corridors in a pair of Starfleet issue pyjamas. He left the two of us then, and went into the lab. It gave us a semblance of privacy anyway.

 

Harry tenderly undressed me. His touch was warm and reassuring but not arousing, for which I was relieved. I just sat there, grinning stupidly at him until he'd managed to get me back into my uniform without once kissing me. Then he gave me one of those smiles that warmed me just as much as the kisses would have, and took my hand.

"Come on, Tom. Let's get you to bed." I let myself be gently led from sickbay, I don't think the higher functions in my brain were completely on-line. Gratefully I leaned into him and he wrapped his arm back around my shoulders. It felt good. Unbelievably so.

"I'm only going to bed if you stay." He chuckled softly.

"Weren't you listening? I've got to keep an eye on you, and I can't think of a better place to do that than in bed." He carefully guided me through the corridors to my quarters. We met virtually no-one, and those we did were curiously silent. I was falling asleep on my feet and didn't really comprehend much of anything apart from Harry's arm round my shoulders, and the heat of his body next to mine. This was what I wanted. No, it was more than that. This was what I needed.

 

Once we were in my quarters he sat me down in a chair and wandered over to the replicator. He came back with a long glass of juice that he pressed into my hands.

"Drink that while I get the bed ready." It seemed he was back in no time at all, but I had finished the drink. He set the glass on the floor, and dragged me upright. "Come on, sleeping beauty, time for bed. Sooner you're in it, the sooner I can follow you." He stripped me with ruthless efficiency, I couldn't help but laugh. Here I was, being stripped for bed by the most gorgeous man on the ship, and all I could do was think of snuggling down with him to sleep. He gave me a soft, loving smile. "Yeah, I know. Strange isn't it." He laid me down tenderly before stripping off his own uniform as quickly as possible and settling in next to me, pulling the covers up over us both. His arms were tight around me, his skin was soft and warm, and I could feel his heart beating next to mine. He lowered his lips to mine, a gentle thoughtful kiss, I smiled drowsily up at him.

"I missed you, Har."

"I missed you too. I'm glad you're back, here, with me. I love you, and I don't want to lose you again."

"Love you too." I was nearly asleep and the words came out almost slurred. Safe, warm and loved, I let myself drift off. I was home.

End


End file.
